Gemotions

The radio announcer's bland voice announced the restaurant's demise as if it were a mundane weather report. A wave of heat washed over Maria, her face flushing crimson. She switched off the radio with a violent click.

Her hands shook as she reached for her phone, intending to call someone to share her outrage. But who would understand? They wouldn't. She knew it.

She marched into the kitchen, and flung open the pantry. A jar of pickles flew out, shattering against the tile floor. She stared at the mess, the sharp smell of vinegar stinging her nostrils. Tears welled in her eyes, not from sadness, but from something else entirely.